Steadfast Tin Soldier
by astraplain
Summary: Three months after the battle of Canary Wharf, Jack seeks solitude in a shabby pub. An alternate version of events before series one.


Billy's wasn't the kind of pub where you met friends for drinks. It was a dimly lit hole-in-the-wall on a street that was barely more than an alley. The decor was too shabby and mismatched to even be called quaint. There were no imported beers or rare spirits on the slate that served as a menu for the place. What they did have was plenty of domestic beer and ale and bottles of strong but inexpensive spirits for those who wanted oblivion and weren't too picky about taste.

The single redeeming quality of Billy's was the fact that no one there - owner, staff or other patrons - cared enough to bother anyone else. It was exactly the kind of place Jack Harkness needed tonight - while images of destruction played endlessly in his head. Three months since the battle of Canary Wharf and he still couldn't look at the ruins of Torchwood One without remembering the carnage.

He dropped into a seat at a small, somewhat sticky table and ordered whatever was on tap. The waitress thumped a large, overfull glass down onto the table, uncaring that the liquid spilled over. She snatched the money from Jack's hand and stomped away without a bit of pleasantness or grace.

Just as well, Jack decided, taking a swallow of the dark beer. He wasn't exactly in the mood to flirt tonight. All he wanted, all he desperately hoped for, was a bit of solitude and enough alcohol to dull his thoughts for a while. It had been a hellish few days, being back here and reliving the nightmare of Canary Wharf while enduring meeting after meeting to discuss the possibility of rebuilding. At the rate discussions were progressing, it would be another week before he could return to Cardiff.

There were nightmares of a different kind waiting for him at home. With Torchwood One nothing but rubble, it had fallen to them, the misfits of Torchwood Three to take on much of the administrative and archiving duties. They'd had barely enough staff to function before -now it was nearly impossible to deal with the huge influx of materials and artifacts they'd salvaged from the ruins. He'd been thinking of hiring someone, but hadn't had the time or energy to deal with applications and interviews.

Jack frowned into the dregs of his beer - he hated interviewing job applicants. Usually he found the people he needed by chance and recruited them. It was much simpler that way.

Signaling for a refill, he scanned the room, taking in more details of the place and its patrons. There was an older man at the bar, muttering into his beer. A few seats down was a scantily-clad woman who had seen better days. Beyond her at one of the nearby tables was a couple of heavyset, middle-aged men who were leaning towards each other, talking in low voices. In the far back corner, at a table half in shadows, sat a vaguely familiar young man in a rumpled suit, staring into his untouched beer.

Jack accepted his drink refill, working his way half-way through it while he surreptitiously watched the young man. In all that time, the man never moved, he barely seemed to blink. Picking up his drink, Jack stood and casually walked to the table in the back. Without asking he took a seat opposite the young man.

"The beer not to your liking?"

The man shrugged slightly, the movement stiff, as if he were in pain. Then he lifted his glass and took what appeared to be just a sip of the dark liquid.

"Jones, wasn't it? Researcher?" A pause, and then Jack added. "Jack Harkness. Met you briefly three months ago." The man shrugged again, but he didn't take another drink. Even in the dim light his face was chalky and there were bags under his eyes dark enough to pass for bruises. He looked as if he might pass out at any moment.

"I have a room at a hotel not far from here. Two double beds and me. You're welcome to the extra bed if you want it." There was no flirting in the offer, and he was a bit surprised he'd even asked - he hadn't wanted company tonight. He had a sudden clear memory of this man, pinned under the corpse of a half-converted woman. He'd been half dead, covered in blood, his leg broken, but he'd been calm and rational when questioned and had provided them with information that had led to the rescue of another survivor. Jack was so distracted by memories that he almost missed the other man's tiny self-mocking smile.

"Have I done something to give you the impression that I'd share a stranger's hotel room?"

"Do you always make it so difficult for someone to offer to help? Comrades in arms and all that." Jack leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs, trying to get comfortable on the hard chair. He had a feeling that his offer had already been accepted, the man just needed some encouragement.

"No one offers help without wanting something in return." The man - Jones - stared down into his drink. "Besides, I'm not an attractive option these days."

"I'm not sure I'd agree with that. But it doesn't matter anyway. You're alone and exhausted. I'm offering a place to sleep where you won't be surrounded by memories."

The man looked up sharply, frowning a little as if trying to decide how Jack knew what had caused him to come to this place. It wasn't even the lure of oblivion by alcohol. It was the need to be somewhere, anywhere, that wasn't filled with memories or people who wanted to 'talk about his experience'.

"Look," Jack said, leaning in close, but not too close, noting how the young man flinched away. "I've been there - had my whole world go to hell - I'm not going to smother you, or tell you what to do. I'm just offering a place to sleep so you don't collapse. No strings attached."

Jones started into his glass for a while longer and then nodded. He pushed the unfinished drink away while Jack finished his. Together they stood, although the man had to brace himself on the table. He moved stiffly, favoring the leg that had been broken, and Jack wondered if he still had a cast on. They walked in silence, Jack setting a leisurely pace to accommodate the younger man's obvious impairment.

"You don't have to look at me like that you know. Like I'm something to pity." Jones stopped, his eyes bright with irritation, possibly even anger. He was gorgeous like this, even in the poor light of the narrow street. Jack filed the thought away, keeping a tight rein on his usual inclination to flirt. That wasn't what either of them needed tonight. He wouldn't readily admit it, but he wasn't looking forward to spending a long wakeful night alone. Just having another person in the room - even if he was asleep - would help keep away some of Jack's demons.

"What are you then, Jones? It is Jones isn't it? What kind of person sits alone in a shabby pub and doesn't drink?"

"Ianto Jones, former researcher for Torchwood One, currently unemployed and apparently capable of being pitied but not trusted with a job." He made a sound that was almost a snort and continued walking. "Twenty-seven survivors from the battle and already half of them dead by their own hand. Who wants to hire a suicide risk?"

"Are you a risk?" Jack was genuinely curious. The man was clearly upset and angry but he didn't give the impression of being suicidal. In fact, he didn't seem any more unstable than most of Jack's staff. And he was a researcher.... Jack filed that thought away for now, deciding it wasn't exactly the right time to offer the man a job interview.

"If that's your way of asking if I plan to put myself out of my misery, the answer is no. My self-preservation's too strong or I'm just too bloody stupid for that."

"Or perhaps you've faced tragedy and survived, Ianto Jones. There's no shame in that."

"Isn't there?" Ianto wondered, his tone so bitter and so very familiar that Jack had to stop himself from dragging the man into a tight embrace and promising that he would help make things better. Instead, he silently vowed to do whatever he could to help this man in the all the ways that no one had ever helped Jack.

"There we are," Jack said, relieved when they turned a corner and the hotel came into view. He felt Ianto stiffen beside him and caught a glimpse of the man, brushing ineffectively at his rumpled suit. Jack caught his hand as much to help him up the stairs as to stop Ianto's fidgeting.

They crossed the lobby without speaking, Ianto setting a faster pace, as if he wanted the sanctuary of the elevator as quickly as possible. Thankfully, they had the car to themselves. Something that turned out to be more of a necessity than a luxury when Ianto clutched at his arm in a near panic.

"Almost there," Jack murmured calmly, careful not to make too much of Ianto's sudden fear.

"Noisy things, elevators." Ianto offered in reply, making Jack wonder where the man had hidden that he'd managed to survive the destruction of Torchwood One.

The elevator glided to a smooth stop and Ianto shifted forward before the doors had even opened, He stepped out briskly, although his face gave away the amount of pain he was obviously feeling.

Jack pretended not to notice as he led Ianto towards the door of his room. He usually preferred a suite but none had been available and now, with his unexpected visitor, Jack decided that having only one room was an advantage. It would allow him to watch over the man without being too intrusive.

Tossing the keycard down on the dresser, Jack opened one of the drawers and rummaged around, withdrawing a t-shirt and boxers. He tossed them at Ianto with a grin.

"Best I can offer, but at least they're clean."

"Despite the wrinkles," Ianto countered, then smiled gratefully. "You wouldn't mind if I took a shower would you?"

"Help yourself. There's shampoo and the rest in there; use whatever you want.

"Thanks." Ianto took off his suitcoat and hung it in the tiny closet along with his dress shirt, cufflinks carefully placed in the pocket. When that was settled, he unfastened his trousers and let them drop before sitting on the edge of the bed. He removed his shoes and socks, pushing them out of the way with his foot before removing his trousers. The right leg came off easily but he had to lean down and ease the material over what turned out to be a rather painful looking brace.

It was on the tip of his tongue for Jack to say something, but the hard expression on Ianto's face stopped him. It looked as if the man was waiting, steeling himself for Jack's comment. While the moment passed in silence, Ianto carefully removed the brace and set it aside. Jack busied himself by rummaging around in a drawer, taking out another set of t-shirt and boxers. He tossed them on the bed before turning back to Ianto.

"I'm off to the vending machine. Want anything?" Jack dug around in his pants pockets for change and emerged triumphant with a handful of coins.

"I wouldn't say no to some crisps." Ianto said with a shy smile. His eyes were still wary but it seemed that some critical point had passed and he was able to relax a little. "Want me to get the coffeemaker going?"

"Only if you want some. Hotel coffee isn't fit to drink."

"I'll give it a try after that shower," Ianto said, a hint of amusement in his voice. With that, he retreated to the bathroom and closed the door. Jack stared after him until the water started, then he went off in search of crisps.

"Plain or cheddar?" Jack asked, holding up a vending machine bag of crisps in each flavor. There were two more bags of each on the bed along with an equal number of packets of biscuits. Ianto took the plain crisps from Jack's hand and leaned down to snag a packet of biscuits as well.

"Interesting version of room service," he commented as he dropped gratefully onto the other bed wearing only the borrowed t-shirt and boxers. His injured leg was throbbing from overuse but he didn't want to draw attention to it in front of this virtual stranger.

"I believe I promised you a coffee," he offered after eating half the bag of crisps. He hadn't eaten since lunch and that had only been an apple. Now he was hungry and thirsty and desperately craving some caffeine to ward off sleep for a few more hours.

"You don't have to do that," Jack said with a grin, reaching back to the nightstand behind him and presenting Ianto with a cup of vending machine coffee.

"You don't seriously drink that do you? It's high-priced dishwater" But he reached over and took the cup anyway, sniffing at it warily.

"I think you're insulting dishwater," Jack countered, taking up his own cup and sipping at the steaming liquid.

"Right. This would be gutter water." Ianto offered his new assessment of the beverage after taking a cautious sip. "Burnt gutter water." He set the cup aside and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't." He stood up as quickly as he could, turning his face away so Jack wouldn't see the expression of pain Ianto couldn't conceal. The young man hobbled across the room to the coffee machine and set about quickly and efficiently making a pot of coffee. It wouldn't be his best by any means, but it had to be better than what was in that cup.

He was so focused on what he was doing that he didn't take much notice of Jack going into the bathroom and returning just as quickly. It was only once he was satisfied the coffee maker was working properly that he turned and saw the bottle of lotion that Jack had placed on Ianto's bed.

"Thanks," Ianto said, not looking in Jack's direction. He sat down and uncapped the small bottle of hotel lotion. It wasn't what he would have chosen to use, but he wasn't in a position to be picky. His leg was throbbing and the skin was red and irritated where the brace had rubbed. He wasn't supposed to wear it all day but he'd been so tired and disappointed after being rejected all day that he hadn't had the energy to get home. He'd considered taking a taxi, but couldn't bring himself to spend that sum of money when he had little savings and no prospect for employment.

He could feel Jack's eyes on him as he worked lotion carefully into the worst spots on his leg. Teeth clenched, he grimly kept his head down, not wanting to see whatever emotion might be on the other man's expressive face - he wasn't in the mood for pity or lust tonight. After a long moment, the television clicked on and Ianto let out a quiet breath.

"Any requests or should I pick something?" Jack's attention was on the telly as he rapidly flipped through channels, far too fast for Ianto to see what was on any of them.

"Twelve's a good number," Ianto offered with a shrug, rubbing his hands together to take care of the excess lotion.

"That would be the knitting channel." Jack said with a grin, turning to look at Ianto before looking beyond him towards the coffee pot. From the aroma, it was ready to be poured. "My turn." He tossed the remote down onto the bed and went to prepare two mugs of coffee. He carried one to Ianto along with the basket of non-dairy creamer and sugar packets. Ianto took the mug gratefully but waved the basket away.

"A purist," Jack observed, returning the basket and claiming his own mug of coffee. He took a seat on the edge of his bed and watched as Ianto sipped at the dark brew. "Does it meet your standards?" he asked, a devilish gleam in his eye. Ianto nodded, frowning a little in confusion at the slight hint of something off about the beverage. A moment later he laughed outright when Jack flashed a small empty vodka bottle at him, then tossed it into the trash.

"You look like you could use a full night's sleep."

"Wouldn't that be nice," Ianto agreed a bit more fervently than he intended. Jack just looked at him, waiting for Ianto to continue. Inexplicably, he did. "Haven't made it through the night once since. well, you know."

Jack nodded - he did know. He recognized a lot of himself in this young man. Their manner was different - Jack covered his pain with humor, Ianto covered it with stoicism. Neither option bought them peaceful thoughts or a good night's rest.

"I'm probably one of the last people you'd choose to talk to about this, but I am one of the few who can understand. I won't judge and I won't offer opinions, but I will listen if you want to talk about it."

Ianto stared into those eyes, read the sincerity in the man's offer and had to take a swallow of coffee to fight down the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. Talking about Canary Wharf was the last thing Ianto wanted, but God he needed to. Sometimes late at night when he was staring at the walls of his apartment, he literally ached with the need for someone to understand. But he couldn't... there were no words...

"What time did you get to work that day?" Jack asked, understanding Ianto's dilemma and knowing that asking him simple questions would help draw out the words that were currently trapped in Ianto's mind.

"Seven-fifty. I was late because I'd been up late the night before and forgot to set my alarm."

"What's the first thing you did when you got to your office"

"My cube you mean. Junior researchers worked in tiny cubes, just big enough for a desk and a filing cabinet. Mine was on the end so I had room enough for a guest chair but someone was always borrowing it."

"There was a lot of email that day - things about the ghost shifts and some questions about a cache of artifacts that had been found in the archives without catalogue numbers. I spent twenty minutes trying to get Harry to stop talking about the previous night's game and help me get into the right files." Ianto shifted back a little, stacking the bed pillows and leaning against them. He was too tired to get up and slide under the bedcovers so he pulled one corner of the comforter across his legs. Jack watched his every motion, but didn't offer help,  
or prompt him to continue. Ianto gave him a grateful smile and took another sip of coffee before speaking again.

"It was nearly time for the ghost shifts and some of the people from my section were going up to a conference room on twelve for a better view. The rest of us... well let's just say that some people used the time creatively. I'd gotten a message from Tessa - she was Harry's wife and the one who had introduced me to Lisa." Ianto paused, taking a long swallow of coffee to hide the waver in his voice and the sudden sting of tears. Thankfully the beverage had cooled enough that he wasn't burned.

"Tessa wanted me to meet her in the supply room near the elevator. Told me it was about a surprise party. I waited until just before the shift was to begin then slipped away. The office was full of gossips and I didn't want to be seen." Ianto paused a moment and drained the rest of his cup. Without waiting to be asked, Jack took the empty mug and carried over to the coffee maker for a refill.

"I'd only just gotten there and Tessa was laughing at me, calling me super spy for trying to be inconspicuous. Then everything happened at once. There were what sounded like explosions and the building shook. That's when the screaming started. I wanted to charge right out there and see what was happening but Tessa stopped me. She peeked out and then pulled back, locking the door. She told me we were under attack by aliens - giant robots she called them. There was this terrible look on her face, like she knew we were all going to die. That's when she told me she was pregnant - that she hadn't told Harry yet because she wanted to have a special night out and surprise him. She was convinced that Harry and the others were already dead and that she had to focus on staying alive for the baby."

Ianto's voice faded and he had to look away, wiping at his face quickly and pretending that Jack couldn't see his weakness. He waited a long time, head turned away, expecting to hear Jack's voice prompting him or offering comfort. He was grateful that Jack remained silent. It gave Ianto time to gather himself and continue the story.

"There were more explosions and screams. The entire building kept shaking. Things were falling off the shelves and we used that as cover to topple the shelves to block the door. We were crouched down in the back corner, inside a metal cabinet, hoping that all that metal would make it harder for them to find us on a scan. We were hanging on to each other, desperate to go out there and help, but knowing that we'd be killed if we did."

"It felt like we were there for days - the last two people in the world. The sounds, the smells... it's the kind of thing that's even too terrible for nightmares. And then there was this sudden... something, and everything when silent. Even the alarms stopped."

"I finally convinced Tessa to let me go check to see what was happening. The door was completely blocked, but there was an air duct. It was a tight fit and it wasn't very stable, but I made it. I couldn't go far - there was a huge section torn out not too far ahead, but it was far enough for me to see the wreckage and the bodies. God, the smell."

"I checked my section first - looking for Harry. He was dead as was everyone else I found. By now I was desperate - how was I going to find Lisa and how was I going to get Tessa out of that room."

"I went back to the supply room and called through the door telling Tessa I was going for help. Then I started working my way down - we were on eight. The conversion units were on six and that's where I found Lisa." Ianto was glad that he'd been able to get this far without breaking down. But now...

"I know, Ianto." Jack said it as gently as he could, offering the man a way out of the rest of the story, but Ianto just nodded, face grim, and continued.

"There were bodies everywhere - most dead, the rest dying. The partially converted ones were the worst. They were begging for help. Some of them were tearing at their implants. Lisa was... she was... I got her out of the machine but she was hysterical. She didn't even know who I was. She kept pulling at the metal, screaming to get it off of her. I put my arms around her trying to calm her and she... she didn't know what she was doing. There were jagged pieces of metal and she was pulling at them, fighting me. We fell and... " he motioned towards his damaged leg.

"She started tearing at the metal on her head and then something gave. She didn't even have time to scream."

"That's how they found me. Pinned under her, bleeding out. I almost.... almost forgot about Tessa, still trapped in that storage room. When I woke up in hospital, they told me she'd tried crawling out the air duct like I had but the thing had given way. She'd lost the baby. She was in the emergency ward... they'd left a tray of surgical tools in the room with her and..."

Ianto didn't bother turning away this time. He'd shared so much with this near-stranger already, there was no sense trying to hide his tears. What he didn't expect was to see Jack crying too.

Without a word he held out his hand to Jack and the man took it, accepting it as an invitation to move to Ianto's bed and take him into an embrace. There was nothing sexual in the contact - only comfort - and Ianto desperately needed comfort. He clung to Jack as if he were a lifeline, and Jack clung right back. It was a long time before the embrace grew uncomfortable and Ianto pulled back slightly. Jack let him go without comment, but remained sitting on Ianto's bed.

It would be so easy, Ianto told himself. Just take the offer there in Jack's eyes and sleep with the man. It wasn't about friends and lovers lost - it was just another form of comfort. The kind that survivors could offer each other - without strings or obligations. But he just...

"I'm sorry," Ianto whispered. And he was sorry, but he just wasn't ready to do something this potentially foolish. Not when his heart had been beaten down into a tiny, fragile copy of itself.

"Let me stay here; I'll try to keep the nightmares away. Tomorrow we'll talk about Cardiff and possibly a job, but now..." Jack's expression was open and hopeful. There was no hidden agenda or questionable motives there. Ianto considered a moment, then nodded. shifting to give up one of his pillows to Jack.

The extra warmth was nice, Ianto decided as his body curled towards Jack's. They didn't touch, but they were close enough to know that someone else was there - that they weren't alone in the dark. For tonight, that was enough.

END


End file.
